


Something

by hidesmore



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depends on your definition of happy, Gen, Kinda, Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)-centric, Spoilers - Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, ansem is in it for all of half a second, roxas is sad, this is just me making my fav kid suffer some more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidesmore/pseuds/hidesmore
Summary: He was Sora, that much he learned in the span of almost a year. He had denied it for his entire existence and now truth tasted like a lie. The bitter truth, he had once been told. He knew it meant he wasn't real, never meant to exist, that he was nothing.But he still refused to believe it.





	Something

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this years ago and then completely forgot about it?? i really wanted to do something w it instead of just losing it in docs again.
> 
> pls excuse any errors idk what im doing, this has for sure been done before but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Darkness had its own particular feel to it. One would think that it would be cold and empty but it was rather stuffy and uncomfortable. There was the rush of being in a crowded room with no space to move let alone breathe. With every attempt to be free the darkness would grow thicker and the stuffiness would become almost unbearable. There was always something watching and no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, the eyes would find him and remind him what it felt like to feel fear.

Light on the other hand was exactly as the name says. The weight and sickness from the darkness would disappear into a weightlessness that could make a heart expand to test the limit of its power. There were no boundaries, no fears no worries. Light was happiness and contentment. It was what comfortable and soothing, a sanctuary. Not that he could remember any of it.

He could recall how it felt when he first came to be, the immediate feeling that something was wrong, of being incomplete. He spent his first few days searching for it but all he could find was overwhelming claustrophobia and how odd it was that he felt that in the empty room he had been placed in, odd that he didn't know what it meant to feel. He was given a notebook and a pen and told to use it if need be.

He declined.

It wasn't something that would make him feel whole again so why bother.

At least that's what he thought. By the end of his time wandering in limbo he was advised to record his days with them, a sort of therapy or something that belonged to him and him alone. He doubted that the diary would remain a secret with all the troublemakers around so he took it more as a coping mechanism for the empty feeling everyone had told him was not really there.

For three-hundred-fifty-eight days he wrote of his adventures down, making sure to write more on the days his chest wasn't a mess of confusion. For seven days he felt like a broken toy that had been tossed to the side. Seven more for him to understand the world he was put into, gather hearts to one day have his own. For two-hundred-fifteen days images flashed through his head of a brunet boy, a duck, and a dog. Twenty-five days he felt what they called happiness, a feeling that he should not feel but he there it was, the warmth in his chest that brought a smile to his face. For one hundred he felt his world slowly fall apart and everything be once thought to be the truth turned to ash. Four more for him to decide the life in darkness was not what he wanted. Four to journey to meet his end and one to give his existence back.

But he didn't have a heart.

Then how was he alive? What was he? Who was he?

He need only look up at as the pod bloomed open, in it holding the very thing he had been running from.

“Sora.” The name came from his lips with little to stop it, he had been fighting for so, so long... he was tired.

He was Sora, that much he learned in the span of almost a year. He had denied it for his entire existence and now truth tasted like a lie. The bitter truth, he had once been told. He knew it meant he wasn't real, never meant to exist, that he was nothing.

But he still refused to believe it.

That almost year, the year that never was he learned so much and felt things a being without a heart should never feel. He didn't understand for a long time, not until he met _him_.

The emotions he felt, those were real, real anger, despair, sadness, fear and although it was not possible there they were eating at his non existent core, keeping him from fitting the mold given to him. So he did the only logical thing a heartless creature with “feelings” could do.

He left to fight against what the images in his head told him. He was his own person, he was not a brunet kid running around with a duck and a dog. He didn't grow up by the beach, he had only been there once and honestly he's not really sure if that actually happened or not but he would like to think so for their sake. He can't remember who gifted it to him but he remembers that it was important so he carries the small shell in his pocket and runs his thumb over the ribbed texture when his mind wanders too far into the images that are not his own.

Almost a year it took him, only to end up feeling worse than he had before. He looks back to the floating boy, it was all _his_ fault. If he hadn't been so stupid he wouldn't have come to be, he wouldn't have been born broken and clueless. It was _his_ fault.

_No, it wasn’t._

The bitter taste came back.

The lies made him feel better for a few minutes before the resentment turned into sorrow.

The brunet wouldn't wake up until the missing pieces were returned. It made him clench his fists, he wanted to scream, to swing his blade, to scream until his throat was raw and his muscles gave out on him. After almost a year of wishing he was not alive he really, truly wanted to live, to be someone.

It must be some kind of poetic justice, but he wouldn't know anything about that so he hung his head and separated his memories from the other boys, from Sora’s.

A lot of them were very similar, eerily so. Sora has the white haired lunatic that cheated to beat him. He has- had Axel, his best friend and source half of his stress. There was someone else in Sora’s memory, someone without a face but he could feel how dear they were to him and somewhere in the emptiness that was his chest there was that same feeling. He couldn't remember who caused it but he ached for them.

He sighed and took a few steps forward towards the opened petals of the pod. He was Sora, without him the hero would never recover.

“You’re lucky.”

He looks up at the thing that might as well be an over decorated tomb. The boy looks a lot like him, or rather he looks exactly like the boy but that was to be expected.

“Looks like my summer vacation is over.”

He was a nobody, but he had become his own… something… and losing that was terrifying, he would cease to exist-- but he wouldn't die. At least not entirely. He was Sora after all and if the memories he had held any truth then the hero’s heart would be big enough for him to reside in. He could at least make sure the brunet never did something that stupid again. It was a decent arrangement, not ideal but it would do.

He’s so tired.

 He’s pliant as the scientist push him in the pod next to the boy. He stands there not knowing what to do and watches as the man punches in a code that makes the machine whirr and the petals close, leaving him, once again, enclosed in darkness.

“What you are doing is very admirable, Nobody.” The man’s tenor voice comes through the darkness, he hates how it makes the compliment sound sinister and cold. It adds to the fire already burning in his nonexistent core.

_I am not nobody._

He feels the chill as his body is frozen into place and lifted to hover in the exact center of the device. He feels himself being torn apart and strangely the more he loses the more he feels. His limbs are being torn and disintegrate into thin air. He hopes he can remember what he looked like, he always did like his hair.

He closes his eyes as the emotions start to trickle through the darkness. Loss comes first, then pain, wrath, jealousy, happiness, love…

_Don’t forget,_

_I am somebody,_

_I am Roxas ,_

_I am here,_

_I am-_

Terrified, he would be hyperventilating if he could breathe. But he can't so instead he just takes it to repeating a simple phrase over and over again until the words become something he can't recall the meaning to. Until he forgets how to string the right sounds together to make the mantra. Until he feels the last bit of him turn to dust-

 

_I’m alive._

 

Blue eyes blinked open to darkness and words fall off his lips, he will never recall what they were nor will he remember the peace they brought as the effects of his sleep wears off completely. But they’re repeated, over, and over, and over again until he regains consciousness after so long.

“I’m alive,”


End file.
